Trashed (37 page)

He takes a small black box from his pocket, opens it, withdraws a ring, and slides the box back into his jacket. He holds out the ring so I can see it, and my breath, lodged in my throat, leaves me stunned.
 

“I designed it myself. You are unique, and you deserve a ring as incredibly one-of-a-kind as you.” He takes my left hand, his eyes fixed on mine. “Destiny, will you marry me?”

I’m already smiling, tears sliding down my cheeks, but my smile gets bigger and the tears flow faster, and I can only nod, wait until he’s fitted the ring on my finger, and then I lunge into him, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him everywhere I can.

Finally, I find his mouth, and we kiss until neither of us can breathe and my legs are shaky and weak from desire.
 

He whispers against my mouth. “Des, I need to hear you say it. Tell me yes.”

I bite his lower lip and then whisper back to him, “Yes, Torrence Adam Trenton, I will marry you.” I pull back and look into his eyes, hunger in my gaze. “On one condition, though.”
 

His gaze darkens, and a puzzled frown touches his mouth. “What’s that, babe?”

“Take me to that amazing bedroom up there, open all the windows, and fuck me till sunrise.”
 

He gathers the hem of my dress in his hand until it’s bunched around my waist, revealing the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear. His hands slide across my skin. “How about right here?”

“The band…” I breathe, pawing at his hands, even though Adam is between me and them.

Adam turns, waves at the quartet, and they scurry away. His mouth finds mine, and he devours my breath. I’m lost in his kiss, so I barely register the sound of a seaplane taking off.

“They’re gone,” Adam murmurs.
 

“Then take me.”

Clutching the bunched material of my dress in one hand, he reaches up with the other and unzips it. Lifts it over my head and off, drops it into the waves.

“You won’t be needing this,” he says.

I undo his belt, free the clasp of his pants, lower his zipper, and reach in and find his erection, slide my fist down his length. He gasps a breath in my ear when I cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. I smile against his cheek and palm his cock until he’s growling in my ear, and then I push his pants down.

“And you won’t need these,” I tell him.

He kicks them off, his shoes and socks, shrugs out of his jacket. I untie the bowtie, unbutton his shirt, and then we’re both naked and our clothes are floating away in the silver path of moonlight, my dress caught on his pants, a sock and a sinking shoe wrapped up in my strapless bra.

His fingers are busy between my thighs, stroking and circling until I’m whimpering and dipping at the knees to ride his fingers to a low, shuddering climax. And then he’s bending and sliding into me, gripping me at the knee and holding my leg up near his hip, grunting and thrusting.
 

I hold onto his neck and laugh as I lose my balance, falling into him, and we go toppling into the water. We splash and disconnect, and then he’s gathering our clothes and leading me up to the beach and up the stairs to the balcony, where he deposits our sopping pile of clothes. Further upward, then, to our room.
 

He pushes open one door, and then turns to me. “Go get in bed, babe.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and dry off while Adam opens all the doorwalls until the sea breeze fills the room. By the time he’s done, I’m on the bed, on my back, fingers at my clit, swiping through the wetness of my desire.
 

Adam stands at the foot of the bed and watches as I touch myself, and then he’s between my knees and his tongue replaces my fingers, and I’m breathless, coming again, and he’s lapping at the juices as they leak out of me, squeezed from within me by the clenching of my inner walls.

“Adam, I need you…” I gasp, pulling at him. “I need you inside me. Right now, baby, please.”

He crawls up my body, nestles his core against mine, leaning over me. He’s at my entrance, hard and hard and spreading me apart. I flex my hips, and he slips in, and I’m gasping. He remains still, eyes pale and piercing on mine, hands beside my face. One of his palms scrapes over my nipple and I whimper, wrap my ankles around his spine and lift up, driving him deep into me.

“Like this, babe?” His lips move against mine, somewhere between a kiss and a whisper.

“Almost,” I say.

I grind my pussy against him, around him, feel him slide in deep, rough circles inside my body, arching my spine and rolling my hips to fuck him harder and get him deeper.

“I can’t get enough,” I groan, “I need more. I need you deeper.”

I lever him sideways and he lets me roll us so I’m on top. He just grins as I settle onto him, sink him deep, and start a rhythm. I rest my palms on his chest and let my hair drape around us, my tits swaying and bouncing as I ride him until we’re both grunting with the impending force of climax.

But it’s still not good enough.

“I know what you need,” Adam whispers to me.

I slow and stare down at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sits up, slides out from beneath me, and then stands up beside the bed. “Come here, Des. On your belly. Lean over the bed for me. Show me that fine ass of yours, love.”

I do as he instructs, moving to bend over the bed, but when my feet touch the floor, he takes my left leg in his hands and lifts it so my knee is bent up and forward, resting on the bed. I’m bared to him, spread open and bent over, unbalanced.
 

He slips a finger between my thighs and finds my wet and waiting entrance, touches me and guides himself in, flexing his hips in a slow glide. His foot is beside mine on the floor, his hand on the bed at the crook of my knee, keeping it from slipping off the bed, and his other hand goes to the crease of my hip, pulling me back into him. I gasp at the depth of his cock inside me, and push back, pushing further off the bed. My knee bends so my thigh is pressed to my body, and I’m not so much standing as merely resting on the bed, held up by Adam’s impaled cock.
 

“How’s this?” he growls, smoothing a hand over my back.

“Perfect,” I gasp, “as long as you start fucking.”

He drives in and pulls out, his hand skimming my skin in a circuit from thigh to spine to ass and back to my bent thigh. He pushes on my ass-cheek as he penetrates me, spreading me apart, and I can’t help groaning low in my throat as he grinds in ball-deep, so deep I can feel his sac slapping against me.
 

“Fuck, Adam…yes…” I murmur, breathless.

“You like this?”

“God, yes, baby. I love it.”

“Is it enough?”

I shake my head and push back against him. “No. I still need more.”

He fucks harder, and this time as he drives in, he smacks my ass with a resounding
clap
, hard enough to sting and startle, and I shriek with surprise but it turns to a groan of need as the slap somehow lets him deeper yet, and now he’s fucking and slapping and fucking and slapping, and all I can do is moan his name.

“Adam…Adam…
Adam
…”

“You want me to come inside you like this, babe?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

So then he’s pulling out and I’m turning over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t have to tell me what I want, and I don’t guess. I just know. He’s there, between my thighs, and I’m locking my ankles around his waist and kissing his sweaty, heaving chest as he slips back into me, drives deep home where he belongs. His hands find my cheeks, brush my hair away from my face and his mouth is seeking mine, kissing forehead and cheekbone and chin and jawline and the corner of my mouth and then his tongue is between my lips, and we’re kissing in that deep and desperate way, the drowning and lost and mad crazed breathless and needy kiss of soul to soul.

We’re moving in sync, grinding and rolling together, and I feel my climax rising inside me even as I feel his rhythm falter. We fall backward to the bed, and I’m scooting back and welcoming his weight on me, clinging to him with arms and legs and my lips are on his neck and my teeth nip and I’m screaming as I come, feeling and hearing his roar of release and our sweat is merged and smeared together and we’re gasping in unison, hips crushed together and moving, rolling, grinding, desperate for each fractional moment of mutual climax.

“Destiny, Jesus, Destiny, I love you so fucking much…” He’s limp on top of me, and I cling to him, feeling him tense and shudder and flutter his hips in the quaking aftershocks.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I whisper it into his ear, gasping it, fingers scraping and scratching down his back as my body tremors beneath his. “I love you forever and forever and forever.”

We drift and drowse together in the moonlight, sea salt on our lips and moonlight on our skin, sticky and love-slick.
 

And then he’s cradling me from behind, both of us on our sides, and he’s surging into me, slowly and lazily. His thrusts are like the slide of glaciers, unhurried and inevitable, and when I feel him start to shake, I slip my fingers between my thighs and bring myself there with him. And we never speak a word, never need to even look at each other.

We sleep, and then I feel his lips on my shoulder and his cock between the globes of my ass, and his fingers slide over my hip bone and to my core, and he’s got me writhing with need before my eyes open. And then he rolls to his back so I’m on top of him, my back to his chest, my weight on him. I plant my feet in the mattress and spread my knees as far apart as they’ll go and feel him slide in, sigh as he fills me, his huge rough hands cupping my breasts gently, his breath in my ear, his heart beating at my spine, his stomach tensing under me as he thrusts, thrusts, groans my name on a whisper and thrusts, harder and harder until my tits shake and my thighs are tensing as I move with him, my ass grinding down to push him deeper, my hands on his thighs gripped tight and pushing, pulling…

“I love you…”

“I love you…”

I’m not even sure who says it first, who comes first, only that it’s all a surging exploding fiery blazing blur of love and breath and his come shooting wet and thick and deep and his hands all over me and his lips at my ear.
 

The sky is pink with sunrise when he finally cradles my cheek against his chest, both of us sweaty and naked and sated. I watch the sunlight glint off my pink diamond, refracting into rainbows on the ceiling, marveling at the intricate metalwork of the band.
 

He’s nearly asleep, and I’m not far behind him when he speaks. “By the way, I reserved the Little Stone Church for next summer.”
 

“You…what?”

“The Little Stone Church, on Mackinac? Where we kissed that first time? We’re getting married there next June. Soonest opening they had, or it’d be earlier.”
 

I can only smile sleepily against his skin. He knows me, god, so well. “I love you, Adam.”

“Love you more, Destiny Ross.”

Epilogue

The tiny chapel is just the right size for the wedding we’ve planned. Most of the people in attendance are actually
in
the wedding party. My mom, of course, who walked with me down the aisle. And Dad, who gave away Des. She was already crying just from that, and gave my dad a long, emotional hug. My sisters, my grandparents, Rose, Gareth, and my agent Rachel and her husband.

The wedding has been planned in total secrecy, so the paparazzi won’t know about this until we announce it. I’m giddy with the fact that we actually pulled off a secret wedding.
 

Dawson is standing to my left, my best man. He’s grinning like a fool.
 

Ruth, Grey, Lia and Lizzy, and—surprisingly—Rose Garret are lined up at the front of the church, Des’s bridal party. I’ve only got Dawson but he’s all I need.
 

After a short speech about and love and the sanctity of marriage, the minister asks us to exchange vows.

I go first. I’m speaking from the heart. “Des…I honestly never thought I’d get here, you know. In a church, getting married. And then I met you, and I just knew, even then, that I needed you, and that I needed to make you mine. So here we are, babe. I’m making you mine, forever mine. You belong, now. To me. With me. My home is yours, my family is yours, my life, my love, my future…it’s all yours.”

Des is barely containing her emotions. It takes her a few moments of deep breathing to collect herself, letting out a sigh through pursed lips, blinking her thick black lashes.
 

“I have a quote tattooed on my body. A Maya Angelou poem.” She blinks and breathes, and then continues. “‘The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.’ That was the one constant in my life, the aching need for somewhere to call home, for some
one
to call home. Until you, Adam, I…I honestly didn’t think it was possible. I was starting to think it didn’t exist. Love, I mean. And home. And then you jumped off that carriage and showed me how wrong I was.”
 

She has to stop again, lets go of one of my hands and wipes a finger under her eye, head tipped back.
 

“I don’t ache for home anymore, Adam. You’re my safe place. You’re where I be exactly who I’m meant to be, and I know you love all of me, the broken and the whole.”

I hear sniffles and sighs, and I don’t need to look out at the small crowd to know everyone is moved by her words, me most of all. My throat burns, and I have to swallow hard past the hot knot of emotion in my throat. I can’t look away from Des, from the tear-shimmer in her wide brown eyes, from the love pouring off her.
 

I almost miss the minister’s next prompt: “Do you, Torrence Adam Trenton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” I haven’t taken my eyes off hers during the entire service. I’m not the least bit nervous, just incredibly happy.